Today I decided to take the Lakefront path into work, to switch up my routine a bit (I usually take Damen/Milwaukee to the Loop), and also give myself the opportunity to extend my ride beyond the normal 40 minutes or so... it being such a mild, sunny November Friday.

I ended up riding for about 60 minutes... making it all the way past McCormick Place, and worked up an awesome sweat riding against the Northwesterly winds the whole way down.  Around the Oak Street Beach Curve (which, by the way, has been newly re-paved -- hallelujah!) the wind was so strong I was standing on my pedals, jamming as hard as I could, and moving at a pace that a snail would have scoffed at.  Great workout, though.   Especially when I sat back down in the saddle, and was forced to isolate my lower body to force the leaden pedals around.  Totally epic.

Yet, I digress.  The point of this post was to mention something that happened on the Lakefront path up near Montrose.  I noticed a cylist pulled over, fiddling with a pump.  Normally, that means he's got a flat, and it is in the "Cyclist Code" (not written on stone tablets, but known by all who ride as "no duh") to stop and offer your assistance.  The guy said he didn't have a flat, but a girl in a pink 'Obama '08' stocking cap (his helpful description) further down the path did, and he couldn't get his hand pump to work to help her out.  I came upon her soon enough, but she was riding with thick, mountain bike tires, and the pump I carry is only for the thin, delicate valve that comes on most road bike intertubes.  I thought nothing could be done, but then the first guy rode up, and says his pump was working after all.  Between the 2 of us, we got the girl on her way.  Full disclosure:  the other dude did all the hard work, I mostly stood there offering unsolicited observations about how she probably has a slow leak, and should get an intertube change, yadda yadda.

Another example of riding for one, riding for all.